Farming Life Starting in Africa

The furniture is in a European retro style, with dark wood coffee tables and sideboards, a sofa with simple lines, and several framed landscape paintings hanging on the wall, with a cool color tone.

Near the kitchen bar, there was a high stool with a dark brown leather seat that had some marks from being used for a long time.

Giselle took off her coat and casually draped it over the back of the sofa, revealing a close-fitting dark gray vest underneath. The fabric cinched slightly at the waist, outlining the curves from her waist to her hips.

She walked to the refrigerator, opened the door with one hand, glanced back at him, and asked, "What would you like to drink?"

Rosen sat down on the edge of the sofa, his gaze sweeping across the room. There was only one glass on the bar counter, no matching ornaments on the coffee table, and only a pair of women's flats and a pair of gloves on the shoe cabinet in the entryway. She must live alone in this apartment.

"Just give me some water."

Giselle, who was taking a bottle of white wine out of the refrigerator, paused for a moment upon hearing this answer. She turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow slightly. "Didn't we say we were going to drink?"

Rosen shook his head. "Water is fine, thank you."

He didn't want to pick up any bad habits, especially after he recently looked through the ingredient lists of several snacks in the supermarket and found that some of the items labeled "everyday snacks and drinks" actually contained legally added cannabis oil.

That stuff isn't even listed as a prohibited ingredient on the ingredient list, so who would have thought that a bag of regular potato chips could contain it?

He wasn't sure where the bottle of wine in Giselle's refrigerator came from, and he wouldn't dare touch it if it had been spiked.

Giselle put the white wine back in the refrigerator, then took a bottle of mineral water from the side door and tossed it across the living room. Rosen caught it; the bottle felt cool in his palm.

Just as she was about to walk over, a cell phone rang from inside the coat draped over the back of the sofa.

Giselle walked over, picked up the phone, glanced at the caller ID, and her expression changed slightly, a very faint vertical line appearing between her brows.

She glanced at Lawson on her phone, gave him an apologetic look, then pushed open the glass door to the balcony and walked out, closing the door behind her.

Through the glass door, her figure stood beside the balcony railing, one hand holding her phone to her ear, the other hand supporting her on the railing, the night wind blowing the few strands of her loose hair backward.

She spoke into the phone for about a minute or two, and Rosen vaguely heard the words Phoenix and temporary driver.

As Giselle pushed open the door, she turned off her phone screen and rubbed her forehead. "My boss gave me some extra work, and I need to go over there right now."

Rosen thought to himself that his date that evening was probably off the table. "That's a real shame."

Giselle picked up her coat from the back of the sofa, shook it, and put it on. She stopped halfway through zipping it up and turned to look at Rosen.

She walked over a little faster than before, stopping in front of him at about the same distance as when they were downstairs.

Gisele's eyes lingered on his face for a moment, then she held out her hand. "Could you give me your phone number? I'll call you."

Rosen smiled, reached out and took the phone from her. He turned on the screen, entered his number one by one in the number field, saved it, and then handed the phone back to her.

What he actually said was, "I don't usually answer calls from strangers."

Giselle took the phone, glanced at the saved number on the screen, and then put the phone back in her coat pocket.

"Really? But you still need to come to me to collect your bonus today." Then she took out the five thousand dollars that Rosen had taken from the other pocket of her coat and stuffed it into Rosen's hand. "The rest is for you next time."

Rosen raised an eyebrow and said with amusement, "Looks like I'll have to answer your call."

As soon as he finished speaking, Giselle grabbed his collar, leaned in, and Rosen lowered his head slightly. She stood on tiptoe and kissed him.

After leaving Giselle's apartment building, the streetlights gradually thinned out. The further south the car drove, the fewer shops and houses there were on both sides of the road. Instead, there were large areas of woodland and the occasional open space enclosed by barbed wire.

Rosen had one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the windowsill. The night wind blew in through the half-open car window and onto his face, dissipating most of the perfume scent he had picked up in the apartment.

The sensation of Giselle's last kiss was still lingering in his mind. He smacked his lips, thinking how wonderful it would have been if things hadn't been interrupted tonight.

American girls are indeed generous; their directness and frankness are quite different from the people he's met elsewhere.

After the car turned from a relatively wide urban main road onto the road leading towards the farm, it picked up speed.

There was construction going on in the middle of the road, and temporary traffic lights had been set up. Lawson slowed down and stopped at the intersection to wait.

With the red light still about ten seconds away from turning green, Rosen turned his head to glance at the lane next to him.

A dark-colored 1969 Ford Mustang Boss429 was parked parallel to him. The car was low and wide, and the engine's idle sound was deep and resonant, like the pulse-like vibration of a crouching beast panting.

The sound alone tells you that the engine is of high quality, with a large displacement and a wild tuning. Just a slight increase in revs can produce that low-frequency roar that sends chills down your spine.

This is a limited edition luxury car!

Rosen couldn't help but glance at it a couple more times; he had just finished racing and his sensitivity to good cars was still fresh.

Then he saw the people in the car clearly.

A woman sat in the passenger seat; her face was pale, and even in the dim light inside the car, her unhealthy complexion was still noticeable.

Her hair was tucked behind her ears, revealing a slender neck. She leaned back in her chair, looking somewhat tired. Rosen only vaguely recognized her.

A tall man sat in the driver's seat, with medium-length dark brown hair combed back, revealing a full forehead and thick eyebrows.

He was wearing a black suit shirt with the collar pulled tight, and a suit jacket over it. In the dim light inside the car, his features were clearly defined, and his jawline was very sharp.

His gaze was fixed on the traffic lights ahead, his face etched with worry.

Rosen's gaze fell on the man, and he felt a headache coming on.

This was the second time he had encountered this person. Did he also have a knack for attracting trouble? But then he thought about his experience in Africa.

Rosen suddenly realized that he might actually have this problem.